


One, two, three, recording.

by Taniushka12



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Astral Projection, Belligerent Sexual Tension, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay, Sexual Fantasy, Timeline What Timeline, Voyeurism, elias only actually appears at the end and only says one line but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taniushka12/pseuds/Taniushka12
Summary: Elias has a very important meeting, and Martin maybe takes a page of Tim's book to distract him from it.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Elias Bouchard, implied Beholding/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	One, two, three, recording.

**Author's Note:**

> I had the nebulous image of martin jacking off->beholding!tapes->elias for over a year but him doing it specifically to distract elias and making him look like a fucking idiot was Such a concept... I had to write it eventually lmao.
> 
> Written months ago but oh well, better posted late than never right?

Martin hated that feeling of helplessness that accompanied him his entire life, of not doing enough despite doing as much as he could, of something always being on top of him and pressing down, down, down. Tim had reproached him again and again about how he was too accepting, too subdued by their current situation of being trapped at a monster factory -which was unnacurate, anyway, but he didn't correct him- as if he didn't get angry himself. He simply knew he couldn't do anything with anger alone. Neither of them could.

He tried to take small retaliations sometimes, accidentally dropping and breaking Elias' mugs or paying close attention to his office whenever he had to go there, mentaly searching for Anything that might help them, but he never get more of him than a pointedly look before drinking his tea.

Maybe that was why he was doing that, now, maybe that was why he planned this. Offering a willing ear for dear Rosie if she ever needed it, picking some info about some extremely important meeting the Head Of The Institute needed to host. Picking the date, the hour, when the guests were gonna start coming in and so on.

(To be fair, it only started being something akin to a _plan_ after Rosie told him all that after he offered her favorite tea, but he liked the sound of it, just a little bit)

When the hour came he made sure none of the other archival assistants were around (he brought some combos for a drinks place close by, an olive branch of sorts) and that his phone was off (he couldn't begin to imagine how utterly and royalty _fucked_ he'd be if Jon decided to call him in that moment), before he willingly walked inside the storage room, his old room for a while, and closed the door.

He took a deep breath, letting the stillness of the room wash over him, sitting down on the bed before taking off his shoes and unbottoning his shirt with a tentative yet concise motion. The silence didn't bother, up until he brushed his nipple with his finger and took a sharp breath, after which he heard the already familiar whirring sound of the tape recorder.

After a close search Martin found the recorder below the bed. He stared at it with a soft frown as he thought over his plan for the last time, before putting it closer to him on the mattress.

—Well, —He mused to himself and to whatever was behind the veil—, good to know someone, some _thing_ is interested.

He petted the machine for a second, before he took a deep breath and finished taking his shirt off. Martin shivered a bit, and he knew it had nothing to do with the chill of the room as he rested his back on the wall.

With still a bit of hesitation he cupped his chest first, grazing his yet soft nipple with his thumb and a bit of nail, pinching it a bit when he felt it starting to go hard in between his fingers and the sparks going straight to his groin.

He probably imagined the way the tape recorder whirred faster at the sound of his soft gasps, but he couldn't be sure.

As he touched himself, as his hands circled his chest and his soft belly, he started thinking. His mind went to the usual places at first, either something he saw or read and then for a second to a couple of faces from his coworkers that he procured not to think about _there_ , and finally, after starting to feel pressure on his trouser, finally he started thinking about him.

He didn't hate Elias at first, really. He was a fair boss and he treated him as kindly as a man in his position could, much much before any of them got to know him as the monster he was in reality. He hadn't hated him, he had liked him, and, in weak moments of his, he had fancied him just a little bit. Martin had a bit of a weakness for older men, and Elias was, unfortunately, close to his type. He remembers a few daring fantasies of a younger him, of being summoned to his office or the man coming down to the library, and he still remembered how soft he imagined his lips being, how he would touch his thighs and sink his hands into him.

Martin shivered, both with frustration at how stupid he had been in hindsight and with the sudden pressing feeling of being _watched_ (at least, more than before). Stopping for a second he took a deep breath, tempted to greet him but instead fumbling with his belt with one hand and stocking himself through the fabric with the other. Hearing himself let a husky noise for the tape to hear and the eyes to see felt wrong, but closing his own he kept with his plan, reaching for his half hard cock.

Long time ago he entertained the idea of sucking his cock in secret, on a well placed visit in the middle of his break. He imagined the polished wood of his desk and the floor beneath his knees, the soft cotton of his clothes on his hand, the sore pressure of Elias' hands twisting on his then shorter hair and his pleased face. He'd thought about that long and hard before entertaining the idea of his boss fucking him against his desk.

He wondered now if he had known that, back then. If Elias could see his thoughts clear as water as his younger mind tried to push aside both anxious mentions of his lie and heated images that were too innapropiate for the context at hand. He huffed bitterly. Of course he _saw_ , as he was probably seeing him now. And this time, he did feel his cold silver eyes on him as he started pumping his cock with his younger's fantasy of his hand on him.

—Ah... —Letting his head fall to the side he moaned softly, opening his eyes just enough to make sure the tape was still recording before shutting them close, licking his hand a bit before taking himself again. Embarrasement rose again on his throat as he didn't try to stop his keening noises, breathing harder and gasping when he traced the slit with his thumb, a bit of precome dripping down his fingers. He felt seen, he felt as if million eyes were around him and the man he hated right in front of him in the first row, but as he got closer and let the eyes enfulge him completely for a second, he stopped—. F...Fuck.

Martin looked up, feeling dizzy and trying to catch his breath. He tried to ignore his own frustration as his hands touched his stomach and chest, playing with the sensitive hair there, as he tried to channel a thought through the plain ceiling right above him, feeling more than a gaze piercing through his soul.

_"Look at me"_

After managing to quiet his breathing he got up enough to grab a small tube of lube. He shivered at the cold sensation, idly starting to pump his cock again with a quick change of scenario.

It wasn't hard to picture it; Given the… a bit pronounced height difference between them he was used to seeing the top of Elias' head. And so he pictured it, maybe still in those foolish fantasies of his younger self, maybe now, he didn't care, it didnt matter, but he pictured him on the floor as he took his cock on his mouth.

He hummed, trying to picture his lubbed hand as Elias' mouth, Elias' tongue sliding against the lenght of him, sucking him off hard as he _looked up at him_. Martin saw himself grab a handful of his neat blond hair simply to mirror the previous fantasy, making a bit of a mess of it as he kept thrusting against his real hand. For some long seconds he simply chased that thought and something firm and wet on his cock until he felt himself get closer again, stopping before reaching climax and whining.

He wondered loudly how Elias was taking it, the image of Martin getting off by the thought of him on hands and knees and using his mouth for something useful for once on his life. He wondered if he was enjoying it, or if it was ticking him off, if he was turned on by his thoughts or ignoring them all together. Taking a deep breath he bit his lip, knowing for the feel of it that the last one wasn't the case.

Good.

He had been trying hard not to think about it, try not to picture it so his plan wouldn't be obvious to the man, but the desperate need to see and hope it was working overcame those feelings as he painted the scene on his mind with his eyes closed. The office, the group of men and women who were supposely on a meeting with him in that exact moment -and Martin couldn't help but notice the quality of the projection, he swore he could see the faces of the people if he focused and could almost hear the distant chatter of the matter at hand if he wanted to- and the Head of the Institute sitting at his desk. Elias smiled that insufferable smile of his as the others spoke, but Martin could see the stains, the milimetric unfocus on his blown eyes when he Knew where his gaze was set on. The red on his lips with the ghost of a bite and the shine of his tongue licking at it.

Trying something he put the recorder closer to him, pushing that image at the back of his mind as he started touching his cock once more with his previous fantasy in mind; Elias' red lips wet with spit and precome, eyes looking up insistently yet hazy to him, and he bit his lips at the image for a second before he moaned at the tape. He didn't think he'd want to kiss him, but for a moment he let the fantasy play along, grabing him by the collar of his expensive suit and biting his lips just a bit inside the kiss. Some part of him could imagine the twitch on Elias' eyebrow at the image, still sitting on his desk and trying to not look too distracted and he cracked up a small smile, quickly subsided by a deep hum on his throat.

The gaze piercing through the skin at the back of his neck only grew pointedly stronger when his thoughts shifted to Elias getting fucked against his own desk. He felt the pressure of his real eyes between his own and needles of shame made him shudder, but he ignored it as he saw the man laid open in front of him, hands closed tight in pleasure on the wood of the desk.

His orgasm came slowly, subsided by the pinning feeling of an auditorium looking right at him, sweaty, jerking off his cock with his own eyes closed shut as his mind was somewhere else, watching the watchman. But when it finally _finally_ came he felt it intensly as he moaned Elias' name, allowing him just a hint of guilt, images of the man from the fantasy underneath him and the real man swallowing down a dry throat both mixing and blinding him for a second as he rode his orgasm. Before falling down heavy into the mattress.

Taking deep breaths he nuzzled the pillow, warm for the tape recorder still recording every single gasp of him as dragged his hand through his softening cock. He hummed, content, yet pointedly ignoring the piercing glare in every pore of his skin as the image of Elias sitting on his desk slowly formed again in this mind. He couldn't see his body very well, but he Knew that behind it all he was just as hard as he was just a moment before, arms casually resting on the desk before him and his index finger pressed against the thin line that were his lips, looking at him as he lay naked and spent on the bed. There was a weird, picking sensation at the back of his head; the curious thought that if he had been anyone else Elias wouldn't have even blinked at his direction.

Martin couldn't pick anything from Elias' face alone, but he could still feel the curiosity and... surprise, that originally made him stick, until something happened: There was no sound on his imagination beyond a quiet and far away mumble, but he could see the moment where one of the women in the meeting asked him something and he snapped out of his secret stupor. Eyes, a good number of them focused intently on the man as the woman repeated, not by the first time by the looks of her peer's faces, a question. Martin could picture clearly the subtle yet general and unforgiving thought that he was an idiot while Elias quickly tried to gather what they were just thinking about, beholding failing him for some unknown reason, and Martin snickered at his own imagination.

That was, of course, when the projection of his boss suddenly halted and looked straight at him, and out of nowhere his little make believe disappeared with a puff and Martin startled. For the first time the idea that that had been real hit him, but he was too tired to think about the implications of it as he sighed, letting his full body weigh melt against the bed. Eyes still enveloped him, cold and hard as the whirring of the recorder kept filling the hot space around him, but he knew Elias' weren't on the mix.

It wasn't until he finally beat the drowsiness that started creeping into him that he got up slowly, cleaned himself up and put on his clothes, when the tape recorder finally snapped shut. And he felt alone.

It was a weird feeling.

Sometime later his little mischief stepped down at the back of his mind as the rest of his team went back and he engulfed himself with work as usual, until he found himself carrying something for Rosie to see, oh so curiously at the same time that the Head of the Institute was accompanying his guests to the door. Martin saw discreetly the stern faces of the committee and wished -just for a second- to be possessed again with whatever took a hold of his mind earlier to know whatever they were thinking, but alas, nothing of the sort sparked on his head as they walked outside the institute with what he hoped was disappointment.

Elias spoke a few words with the last members of the crew before closing the doors and looking back, at _him_. His face didn't betray anything and even if he did Martin knew he probably wouldn't have known whatever it meant, and yet, as their eye contact stood strong he could feel the pale allusion of whatever he was thinking. Annoyment, irritation, the embers of surprise, and a deep, deep intrigue. Martin shivered at the intensity of his stare but didn't break the contact as he politely nodded towards him, feeling the curious glances of people around them.

— _Elias._

Images of his own guilty fantasies played on his mind then, and he finally blinked to clean his vision as Elias squinted at him. He felt questions from him, could feel the enquiries around him as the final sensation of his former piercing glare that pulled him out of what he thought a fantasy left goosebumps on his neck, and he didn't know what to think for he did not have an answer for that.

-He could also feel his own breath itching a bit at the realization, at the feeling of being **watched** by something that wasn't his God. He could almost, almost, feel the edge of admiration, but whatever he was thinking to came up with such ridiculous idea was extinguished as quickly as it came-

Elias started walking slowly then, not towards him but in front of him, back to his office. His eyes finally relieved from their pressure as he looked onwards, not without first saying his name, on a way that generally wouldn’t make him blink with more than deep uneasiness but that in that moment only made his mouth wet.

— **Martin.**

And just like that the scene ended, and as Martin followed him with his eyes he stopped feeling those strange underlined sensations. He hummed, only then noticing the sudden absence of other set of eyes on him. He would think about it, later on his house, probably, for before he could dwell on it a gentle yet insanely curious voice asked behind him.

—What _was_ that? —Asked Rosie, still sat on her desk watching the tense encounter unfold in front of her eyes. It didn't took much for him to pick himself up, though, shrugging as best as he could.

—How should I know, Rosie? —And he gave her a reassuring smile, despite himself—. I'm not a mind reader.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Boss makes a dollar I make a dime so I think about fucking him while he watches from the eldritch astral plane in company time_ 🎶 Sidenote you don't know how much I wanted to tag this as Martin♠Elias... lmao...
> 
> Anyway hope you liked it u_u


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